Simply Incapacitate
by N.D. Stark
Summary: There was no need to sweat. There was no need to worry. It was all just a game. A simple game of chess. The opponent makes their moves and in the end the board is left to the winning king and his surviving pawns. The world was his chess board. And all the heroes were his pawns. And in the end, the board would be his. Hydra's. (Avengers vs X-men/Minor Avengers included! Coulson!)
1. Log: Day 1: Imminent Threat

Tony Stark entered the room, the doors swinging shut behind him as they echoed, a hollow, empty sound. It was a sharp crack compared to the silence of the tower's meeting room, which had no windows, only a set of double doors at the one end, which at the moment he rendered as a threat to security. But instead, his thoughts were turned to the woman sitting in a lone chair at the end of the room. She sat in a darker corner, the end of the table seeming miles away from his perspective.  
>"What's the problem now, Hill?"<p>

Maria Hill was perched in a swirly chair, her elbows on the cool grey table. Her palms touched one another, her chin resting atop the ends of her fingers in an annoyed, yet focused way. Her young face was thoroughly shadowed by a wisp of black-brown hair that hung in her face, somehow fallen out of the ponytail she usually wore. This of course, rendered her expression unreadable; even though Tony doubted that her face would be readable anyhow. Her cheekbones seemed to be elevated higher than usual as her head tilted up slightly, a smirk spelled across what was visible of her face. She tilted her head slightly, the smirk curling into a curious smile. She reached forward, breaking the elegant composure she had been holding; and fingered a set of orange manila folders. She quickly brushed her hands across them however, sending them careening across the table towards him. He noted the long navy blue sleeves that obscured her arms, and soon after that the bird patterned patch on her shoulder. The fact she was wearing her SHIELD uniform slightly bothered him, since at the moment she was in fact working for him, ever since the collapse of the agency.  
>The folders finally slid to a stop. He reached forward to pick them up, the thickest only seeming to be five pages thick. Stark of course, would have usually come up with a clever remark, but however; when he glanced up at Maria, her lips were pressed back into the thin line they were when he had entered the room, rendering the silence dead serious.<br>"Oh." He said quietly.

There was a pregnant pause, both of them glancing between the each other and the folders.  
>Suddenly, Hill broke the silence. "SHIELD has verified another possible threat."<br>Tony stood still for a moment, trying to piece together what he should say. Suddenly he felt a dawning realization fall down upon him. "Wait a moment. Isn't SHIELD, like, not supposed to exist anymore?"  
>Maria chuckled, and he could see the ever darker shadows under her face lengthen, indicating her eyebrows raising in amusement. "Not just yet Anthony."<br>"Does that make you in charge then?" The billionaire said with a satisfactory tone, his head titled back slightly in curiosity.  
>"I assure you, I'm still only the vice principle in this school." She grinned avidly. "I'm still receiving orders from a higher status. Though, I have been assigned responsibility of your 'team'. It seems a bit scattered at the moment, now doesn't it?"<br>Tony let out a shallow breath. "I've still got it under control."  
>"Oh, is that true?"<br>"Yes." He stammered.

Maria moved back to the position she had before quickly gesturing for him to read the folders. He looked at them, an eyebrow raised, a scowl now spelled across his face, the patterned stubble on his chin twisting. He realized she had changed the subject of the conversation away from the position SHIELD was currently in. He dismissed the thought, promising himself to come back to the subject later. As he picked up the folder he noticed how surprisingly light they were, confirming his suspicions. They had limited information.  
>This made the subject only worse.<br>Tony glanced at each of the tabs before reading them thoroughly. He read a small list of names, Charles Xavier, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Kathrine Pryde, Logan Howlette, and Kurt Wagner. And lastly he read the name Henry McCoy. Suddenly a light switched on inside his mind. Henry McCoy had been a name frequently mentioned in the news, though pictures were never shown of the man. The name was always noted alongside the recent rise in mutant population, therefore, Tony suddenly had a feeling he knew just what he was going up against.  
>Tony felt his stomach sink as he opened the folders, fully aware that there eight names, compared to the six on his team. He could recruit Rhodey, maybe make Pepper a suit- she'd flown one before anyway.<p>

He sighed, opening the first folder, under the name of Charles Xavier.  
>Kept in line to the top with a paper clip was a small collection of photographs. The first was clearly old, he noted, the pixels grainy and coloration slightly off. Together they portrayed a picture of a young man wearing a suit and tie, a wave of curly brown hair spread across his head, a long pointed nose along with narrow eyes. The color was disappointingly untraceable, the man was squinting. The other most notable photo was much newer, thankfully clearer and much easier. The man sat in a wheelchair, surrounded by a small collection of people, though not as many as there were files, so he assumed that it was still a few years old. Afterwards, Tony quickly skimmed the information for what was actually relevant. He quickly compiled a list of notes inside his head.<br>_'Name: Charles Xavier, Age: 82, Notable aliases: See mutant files. __Former Korean War veteran, owning a school designated to the mutant species. Possibly owns undercover team similar to mine, owns underground area, a large mutant tracing computer which can only be used by telepaths. Nearly destroyed the planet once, five years ago. Immobile, probably useless in a fight. Unless he's in range, but he'll most likely send out the members of the agency. Location: Bayville-' _Tony swallowed. _'Bayville, New York.'  
><em>He moved on. Tony quickly glanced at a picture of a young man, with mop of brown hair atop his head. He wore a pair of red shades, and was smiling, sitting next to a woman on a bench. _'Name: Scott Summers, Age: 27, Notable aliases: Just as before. Orphan, missing brother due to plane crash, brought into the school by Xavier, possibly- no, most likely recruited for agency. Has a permanent stream of- lasers? Really? - coming out of his eyes, incorporating the need for always wearing glasses with ruby-quartz lenses.'  
><em>Tony sighed, rubbing his temples as he glanced a picture of a red haired woman. She was smiling brightly, and she had striking green eyes similar to Natasha's. _'Name: Jean Grey, Age: 25, Notable aliases: Not gonna bother, it's probably gonna be the same for every person in these files anyway. Daughter of John and Elaine Grey. Haven't made much contact since fourteen years ago. Contains the ability of telepathy and telekinesis. Both are unstable and she has difficulty using them. Is seen with Scott Summers often.'  
><em>Next was a much younger person. He flipped through the pictures, all depicting a teenage girl with brown hair, blue eyes, and a tall composure. She too was smiling in most of the photo's. _'Name: Kathrine 'Kitty' Pryde, Age: 18. Born in Deerfield, Illinois. Parents are Carmen and Theresa Pryde. Jewish, though does not embrace it. Has not made contact with parents for six years. If any contact, it is rare, more often than Jean Grey. Possesses the ability to walk through any solid object. Nicknames ability 'phasing'. When she phases through technology, it shorts out. Very acrobatic.'_

Tony winced at the next pictures, shaking his head in distaste. The best pictures of the next man were an army profile from World War two, showing a very grumpy looking face and sideburns, along with hair that seemed like it belonged to a Dracula that hadn't slept in a hundred years. There was also a much newer picture, actually from only a week ago at a museum. He was exactly the same. Along with that, a blurred photo of the same man showed three elongated objects erupting form each fist. _'Name: Logan Howlette, Age: 132.' _Tony glanced up Maria, who simply shrugged, her hands coming apart slightly to indicate her surprise as well. _'Born on a plantation in the Northwest Territories of Canada in 1882. Served in World War Two, is not often seen in public, if seen at all, often in the wilderness. Volunteered for adamantium bone bonding. Possesses greatly enhanced healing factor, pushes any assailant out of his body and heals almost instantly. Also has three adamantium covered claws on each hand. As well as a heightened sense of smell, has great agility, endurance and the knowledge of Tia-Kwon-Doe and Karate. Has enhanced knowledge on the battlefield.'  
><em>Tony swallowed, convinced that Logan Howlette could be very, very lethal when he wanted to. He shook his head, letting out a sigh, and read the next one. He also winced at the pictures of the next man. He was apparently covered head to toe in short blue fur, and his feet had only two toes as a matter of fact. His hands had only three fingers. He had jet black curly hair large yellow eyes and a prehensile tail, as well as a set of wicked sharp fangs. He looked almost demonic, minus the horns and red coloration. _'Name: Kurt Wagner, Age: 19. Born in Germany, exact location unknown. Lived in a traveling circus with gypsies, but was beaten heavily when the circus moved to America. Has a prehensile tail that is just as useful as a third hand. Can rapidly teleport, which also smells disgusting. Has fangs, yellow eyes provide night vision and glow in the dark. Feet are just as flexible as regular hands. Can stick to nearly any surface, similar to the abilities of Spider-man. Has control over small creatures with a similar form and abilities as he does, though only three or four are alive today. Is very acrobatic, apparently has go excellent skills in parkour like sports, is fast, runs like a cat, and has a high knowledge in fencing.' _Tony sighed in both anxiety and relief as he came to the last folder. The picture showed a large fluffy blue man, who had a catlike face and was seemingly in a laboratory. _'Name: Henry 'Hank' McCoy, Age: 37. Born in Dundee, Illinois to Norton and Edna McCoy. Has not made contact with parents for sixteen years. Has large opposable feet, is covered head to toe in long blue fur. Has a catlike face, extreme strength and acrobatics. Is also very smart, is the person who singled out what makes mutants 'mutant'. Most likely will not partake in battle.' _

Tony heaved a sigh, placing the files back down on the table with a loud slap. "So, you want us, your 'Avengers' to infiltrate a school and eliminate _possible _threats?"  
>Maria shifted uncomfortably, her face twisting with doubt and anxiety. "Not eliminate. Simply incapacitate. We need information, and that's it." She said coolly, dismissing all apparent struggle to gain words. "So you want us to kidnap eight people, including the principle of the said school, from the school?"<br>Maria sighed. "However you want to handle it Stark."

She stood abruptly, leaning over the table. "And keep the files. That's all we've got. And you might want to let everyone else know who you're going up against."  
>She walked around the table, pacing by him. Suddenly she stopped as Tony reached forward quickly, grabbing her arm. She glanced over at him, a hollow glare forming in her brown eyes.<br>"Who are they?"  
>Maria again let a smirk settle across her thin face. "They must have been inspired by you, honestly speaking. They call themselves the 'X-men'."<p> 


	2. Log: Day 2: Unsettling Feelings

"I, like, still can't get over you're little clones!"  
>Katherine 'Kitty' Pryde exclaimed, holding out another slip of sausage to a small blue creature, which sat, hunched on the table Kitty stood near. The said clone (otherwise known around the mansion as a <em>bamf<em>) took the sausage into it's small hands gingerly, feeding the object into it's mouth as a rabbit would a carrot. It grinned at her, squinting it's large yellow eyes and reveling a set of wicked sharp teeth, it's tail waving feebly out behind it with pleasure.  
><em>"Bamf bamf." <em>It muttered, a high pitched, husky voice erupting form it's throat.  
>Kitty cooed, patting it's head. It purred, huffing it's small, foot and a half tall body onto her shoulder.<br>"Zey are not clones, zey are bamfs." Kurt Wagner sated, slightly annoyed from the couch, were he watched Kitty play with the small creature. It didn't look much different then he did, simply smaller, and it's back legs were formed as if to walk on all fours.  
>Kitty rolled her eyes at the correction, reaching to the small plastic bag on her lap.<br>"Ya 'know, if you keep feedin' it, it'll get fat." The two whirled their heads to see Logan Howlette standing in the doorway, an apple in his hand. He had a towel placed lazily around his neck, even though he wasn't sweating very bad, compared to usual.  
>Kurt chuckled in agreement, an eyebrow raised. "Zat is vhat I said, ja?" Kurt looked at Kitty expectantly, but she simply huffed, crossing her arms.<br>The bamf followed in suit, trying to balance on it's back legs, arms crossed, it's bottom lip turned out into a pout. Logan grinned at the small creature's incompetence.

"You kids and you're pets these days." Logan sighed, biting into the apple as he sat down next to Kurt, narrowly missing his tail. Kurt hissed with annoyance, jerking the prehensile object off the overstuffed couch and in the other direction. He huffed, crossing his arms in a similar way to Kitty's.  
>"Zey are not animals." He stated stubbornly, sitting up a bit straighter.<br>_"Bamf." _The bamf agreed. It slunk down Kitty's shoulder, suddenly snatching the bag of sausages. It leapt of the table, nearly colliding into the other two bamfs, who were asleep in front of the fire place.  
>"Hey!" Kitty exclaimed, standing up abruptly.<p>

The bamf stopped, grinning mischievously, slowly lowering it's small hand into the bag, fully aware of Kitty's flustered face and distaste of germs.  
>"You wouldn't dare."<br>_"Bamf bamf." _  
>The bamf suddenly stuck it's whole arm in the bag, swirling around the bits of sausage before taking one out and eating it.<br>"That's disgusting. I'm not eating that now."  
><em>"Bamf." <em>It giggled, slinking back towards the fireplace slightly.  
>Kitty stuck out her tongue, crossing her arms. The bamf sat down, sticking out it's own tongue before digging in.<p>

Kitty glanced at the bamf before suddenly stating. "It doesn't have as many manners as you."  
>Logan laughed, making Kurt grin. "<em>Nien<em>, I vouldn't zink so."  
>Kitty sighed, rolling her eyes before leaving the room, the same bamf abandoning his bag of sausage to follow her, tail waving about with every step. She looked down, stopping. The bamf walked a few paces in front of her, sitting down, it's tail curling around it's legs as it looked up a her, and then at the floor, then quickly up at her again. It put it's hands together nervously, looking down at the floor for a second time.<br>_"Bamf" _it stated sadly, before it looked up at her again and grinned.

Kitty sighed. "Alright, alright. Let's go get a cookie."

* * *

><p>Clint Barton sat uneasily in the tower's meeting room, his eyes subconsciously darting about, to everyone and every once and a while a while finding its way to the door, or the grated tiles in the ceiling. He sighed at how he unconditionally looked for exits; his alter ego spy habits getting the better of him. He subconsciously ran his hand through the short, dirty-blonde hair atop his head, placing the other hand on top of the table. He eyed the thin folders that Steve was presently holding, flipping through the small collection of pages gingerly.<p>

He watched Steve's expression grow sour, glancing up at Tony, who simply shrugged lightly; standing at the end of the long meeting room table. Clint was fully aware of the uncomfortable look on his teammate's faces, which seemed even more so then when Fury had once assigned them to track down Spider-man. He could tell that even Natasha was unnerved by the light details of what information was present, which did not help his already low vote of confidence.  
>"Mutants." Steve finally stated dryly, uncertainty rippling through his hardened voice.<p>

No one said a word, making the room seem eerily silent compared to usual, when they rarely came into the room, in which the situation was only to asses a very, extremely dire situation. Clint sighed, looking at the floor with a simple doubt. Of course, this would either make the Avengers look great, or look terrible; the fact that they had to go after mutants. Clint himself didn't mind them, and the fact others didn't made him upset. He could hear it in Steve's voice, he was disturbed by the notion of hunting a group of positively inflicting mutants as well.  
>"In a school." Bruce said, a worried tone floating through his slightly husky voice, making everyone either sink deeper into their chairs or cringe.<p>

"In a school." Tony affirmed, turning around slightly, hands on his hips as he bit his lip; his dark brown eyes falling to the floor in disapproval and anxiety.  
>"We have to go after them?" Natasha said, looking up at the men. "I mean, do we really have to? All they've done is try to protect their own race. The worst that's happened is collateral damage, and that's just for when it's government or public property; we do that all the time. Seriously, what's the difference? We do the same thing all the time."<br>"They do not seem as if they are those to be deemed worthy of persecution." Thor finally stated, shaking his head in disappointment, his mouth curled into a frown. "They take action as we do."  
>Natasha nodded in agreement.<br>"Hill's orders." Tony muttered in discontent.  
>Clint leaned back in the chair slightly, crossing his large muscly arms; his head tilted back, eyes narrowed. "Since when do we take orders from Hill?"<br>"Since SHIELD is apparently still in charge of the planet, Fury's still not dead and no one cares what we do as long as we protect people from 'threats', real or not." Steve summed up coarsely, glancing around the room.  
>Everyone glanced back down at the floor.<br>Thor let out a lout sigh. "Then we must take reasonable action."

Steve let out a sigh, glancing at the SHIELD markers on top of each folder as he placed them back down on the table. Clint say everyone else's eyes land on them as Steve started pacing.  
>"We need a plan."<br>No one said anything for a moment, before suddenly Tony burst. "Cameras."  
>"What?"<br>"Hill said we only need information. "What school doesn't have security cameras?"

* * *

><p>"An' so the Nazis failed their conquest, 'n the Americans 'n British won. The end."<br>Logan let out a huff, relieved to have finally finished the long, and seemingly endless bout of talking he'd just endured. He glanced about the room to see everyone either staring blankly at him or slumped on their desk asleep. He sighed, rolling his eyes and grinned as he turned around, snatched up the eraser and started to clean off what was left of the red, blue and black whiteboard pens that he had used for the seemingly endless speech.  
>The bell finally rang, and the room was thrown into absolute chaos. Everyone started scrambling for their notebooks and backpacks, picking up pens and pencils and whatnot; taking the chance to throw a last minute spit wad at the ceiling. This was quite normal for the seventh period class, and at this point only a few students remained, helping pick up spare papers or pencils that had gone astray whilst everyone else headed to the safety and freedom of the dorms. Well, in this case to grab the pre-packed suitcases that lay on now neatly made beds.<br>As the last few people left, he hollered, "Have a nice summer!" before the door swung on it's crooked hinges and the room went silent.

Logan let out a sigh, dropping the eraser on the projector stand and propping himself in the spinney chair at his desk. He gazed at the one last antique he'd saved for the lesson, now brought out of it's dusty box. It was a round, dome shape, chipped greenish-grey pain peeling off along with a faded white star on the side. The leather straps were now stiff and useless. This thing had followed him around for quite a long time, he realized. It brought back dark memories into his newly opened mind, all the destruction and ruin that occurred everywhere he walked. All the death in his wake.  
>Things would get better though, he said to himself. This is why he joined the school and started teaching anyway. Logan quickly realized how much he would love a beer or a cigar as he leaned back in the chair, propping his feet up on the table and closing his eyes. He enjoyed life here, with the occasional threat to worry about; which was always for to eliminate, and then those dreary, dark, rainy days; where everyone watched television; or if Scott was in a bad mood, head to the danger room for a while. But even then Scott would eventually succumb to the powerful, beckoning glow of the screen and the warm overstuffed cushions on the couch.<p>

He grinned after a few minutes of thought, Kitty's voice breaking the near silence that hung in the mansion. Kitty was a sweet girl, at least for the modern day; he considered. She smiled a lot, and she always lit up everyone's day. She and Jean got along well, seemingly the only people that could make Scott smile. Jean was pretty, Logan had to admit. But Scott would always get pissed or Hank would tell him to just leave everyone alone. Hank was someone Logan could take advice from. He was quiet, respectable; and smart. He spent most of his time reading or writing, or occasionally doing a crazy experiment in the science lab with advanced chemicals. Though, usually a bamf would find it's way to the lab a mess everything up horribly, resulting in a damaged lab and a very embarrassed Kurt, who usually teleported in, grabbed the creature, apologized, and left without another word. Kurt was a good kid, very talkative and funny once you got to know him better. Though, usually his outward appearance was very quiet, watchful and intelligent. He had a sad feeling about him sometimes, and during then you would find him on the roof or the chandelier, sulking for a reasons he kept to himself. Most times the professor would try to comfort him, though Logan could tell whatever he'd gone through was pretty rough; especially for a kid his age. The professor had a warm, welcoming heart; always open arms, no matter who it was, what they looked like, what they could do or had done. Professor Xavier was a good guy for Logan to talk too when he felt like nobody understood.

Logan could now hear the quiet background noise of the large piano in the living room. Two voices accompanied the sweet, calming sound.  
>"-Why don't you be the artist, and make me out of clay? Why don't you be the writer, and decide the words I say? 'Cause I'd rather pretend, I'll still be here in the end; only it's too hard to ask, won't you try to help me?-"<p>

Logan sat quietly for a few minutes, sucking in the peace.  
>Though, the silence was broken when the hinges of the door creaked a bit more. He glanced up to see one of the students standing in the doorway, one who usually stayed the summer. She looked anxious, her eyebrows furrowed in discontent, one half of her face hidden behind a wave of white hair that seemed slightly out of place compared to the bright red mop of a mane currently pulled into a ponytail, the endless kinky curls falling over her shoulders. Her lips were pursed as she held a notebook between her arms, fingering the gloves she had to wear because of her mutation.<br>"Logan?" She asked quietly, the familiar southern accent echoing through the room.  
>Logan took his feet off the desk and smiled weakly, his usually hardened face softening.<br>"What's up kid?" He asked quietly, leaning on his knees to get closer to the seemingly uncomfortable eighteen year old.  
>Her lower lip jetted out as her large green eyes bored into his. "Somethin' feels wrong... Ah-Ah don't feel righ'... I mean, I feel like someone's out there, watchin' me."<br>He paused for a moment, letting the small statement sink in. He shook his head slightly before glancing back up at the young girl. "It's gonna be fine, your just gettin' the jitters from everyone not bein' 'ere." He stated, his usually angry, husky voice now sounding warm and comforting.  
>She glanced at him. "Alrigh' then... if ya'll say so." She gave him a quick hug before leaving the room, still seemingly uncomfortable and uncertain. He saw her eyes land on the camera perched above the whiteboard for a spilt moment before she left.<p>

Logan sat up, drumming his hands on his knees. She was right. Something was wrong.


	3. Log: Day 3: Just Like Us

Steve stood, cross armed in front of the holographic screen, concern played across his battle worn face. He found himself shifting feet, rubbing his hands; rubbing his teeth together. He was anxious. Sure, Steve had gotten a load of anxiety over the years, both from his years in the army and from the two he'd spent leading the Avengers; thought mainly Tony was the one who ended up pulling them all together in the first place. He let out a sigh, his fingers squeezing his temples in discontent. Of course he'd agreed to take midnight watch; why wouldn't he? He was supposed to be responsible anyway.  
>So far, nothing had happened. Tony had hacked into the security system almost two-and-a-half-hours ago, which to Steve, seemed like decades. All anyone ever did was sit around, do nothing, sleep, work out in a small gym or eat; and on occasion go outside. Actually; Steve noted no one was inside for a long time, about during sunset. They must've been having a barbecue. Ribs sounded really good to him, surprisingly.<p>

Steve shook away the thought, taking another glance at the screen. He found hardly anyone in any other room than what he assumed was the kitchen and living room. He cautiously pressed the two, enlarging them, each taking up half of the screen. Two men sat in the kitchen, speaking calmly. One was obviously younger, a mop of spiked blonde hair atop his head. He momentarily held the other man's drink for a moment; most likely a soda. It was quickly passed back though, the other man snatching it back in a large, strong hand. He tilted his head back to laugh as the younger person said something, before taking the soda and taking a large swig.  
>In the other room, a large group of people were spread about, all of their gazes directed at a large screen on the wall. Some shifted occasionally, but most movement was obscured by the glowing blue light of the television.<br>They seemed so perfectly normal; Steve realized.  
>Much like the Avengers.<p>

"Nothing much, huh?" Steve felt himself jump, whirling around to see Natasha standing behind him, wearing sweatpants and a tank top; a cup of milk clasped between her small hands.  
>Steve shook his head. "Nothing. They're harmless."<br>"Well, yeah." Natasha said, picking a fluffy red blanket off the couch, wrapping it around her shoulders. "It's just like us when we're off."  
>Steve nodded, putting his head in his hands and placing his elbows on the polished counter top.<br>"I just don't- ugh... this is it. Mutants. We're not supposed to be this deep into politics like this."  
>"And look at you." She gazed at him, her lips pursed, her head tilted down to meet his line of sight from the chair he was now sitting in.<br>Steve smirked, swirling around in the chair to face the floor, a small chuckle escaping his throat. "You have a point."

* * *

><p>"Come on!" Anna-Marie slumped back onto the couch, slapping the two cards back down on the coffee table.<br>Remy laughed, his hand flying to his forehead, another hand held up as if to stop someone. A grin was plastered on his face. "_Arrêtez_! You're failure! It's too much! _Haha!_"  
>"Shut up, Remy." She growled. She crossed her arms, brushing a few stray strands of white hair out of her face. She shot a glare at Bobbi and Kitty as they started to snort, Remy falling to the floor, laughing. "Hey! Just 'cause, ya'll can gamble better than Ah can don't mean ya'll can laugh!"<br>"Just because you suck doesn't mean you can tell us to stop!" Bobbi teased, slapping the table repeatedly.  
>"Bobbi..." Kitty said, annoyed, but still couldn't stop herself from grinning. From the kitchen they heard a loud shout suddenly erupt from the kitchen<p>

"_Mien Gott! _Mah berrrr_rrriiiiieeesss_! Logan! How could you! _Nnniieeeenn!_"

Suddenly, the living room burst into laughter as Kurt's shrill, surprisingly high pitched voice echoed through the room.  
>"Oh... those were yours?"<br>"Obviously!"  
>"Whoops."<br>Logan walked out of the kitchen, his face now red. He had a large purple-grey-green concoction smashed on his face, a scowl placed upon his narrow mouth; though it was obvious he was embarrassed.  
>"<em>Du dummer Idiot! wie konntest du! sind Sie im Ernst!<em>" The could hear Kurt shouting in the kitchen. "_Sie krank rasieren flipping Kopf , während Ihr Schlaf- und sen dit Zurück zu Deutsch!_"

At this point everyone was shaking heavily, either rolling on the floor or holding themselves form laughing so hard, mouths agape and faces red.  
>"And I thought - <em>huff<em> - Jean was... _Hahha!- _protective of her food!" Kitty gasped.  
>"What about me?" Jean peered through the door of the living room. She was seemingly walking through the hallway and heard the profound statement. Everyone turned further red as Jean's eyes widened at the sound of Kurt's cursing from the kitchen.<br>"Oh."

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. It was hardly decipherable over Kurt's voice, but Logan heard it. He quickly wiped the mash off his face, his large hairy arm swinging back to his side as he headed to the door.  
>"I'll get it."<p>

* * *

><p>"Well lookie there." Steve's attention returned to the cameras as Natasha nodded towards the screen. The older man was walking to the front door. It opened to reveal a younger man, a pair of great wings spread out behind him. The two shook hands, man hugged, and the older man invited the younger one in. He nodded, folding the great white wings and stepping in.<br>A red haired woman rushed over to hug him, and a blue man walked from off screen. They too hugged, and started walking off in another direction.  
>"They look like opposites." Natasha said.<br>The blue man did in fact have a demonic appearance, a long spaded tail stretching out behind him.  
>"And we aren't?" Steve asked, an eyebrow raising.<br>"True point." Natasha said, making a finger gun in his direction and winking. She slid off the couch, walking towards the window. Outside the sun was rising, clearly indicating the cloudless sky. and the beautiful day ahead.  
>"Let's hope there's no trouble today. I wanna day off."<br>"That sounds good."


	4. Log: Day 3: Simple Comparison

The day, of course, was not at all bent to Natasha's favor. Almost thirty minutes after Bruce rose to perform a short yoga exercise with Clint, the television switched from the usual morning news report to the solemn face of Maria Hill.  
>"You apparently haven't been paying attention to the news." She clearly addressed Steve and Tony both, sending them each a hardened glare; which still felt as spine tingling as it would have been if it hadn't been through a screen.<br>"And why should we?" Tony yawned into his arm, speaking defiantly.  
>"Because," She was clearly heard sighing as she placed her hands on her temples. "Major threat. I'll leave you to it."<p>

Within seconds her face vanished, and by then all of the Avengers had gathered around the screen, either leaning on the couch or standing cross armed in front of the coffee table. On the screen was a man. He hovered a great height in the air, arms outstretched. A large violet cape bellowed in the wind, rippling like the ocean's current had been filled with a gaseous purple substance. Atop his head was a red and purple helmet, a darkening effect. His face was mostly hidden due to the angle of the early sun, the only part visible being his mouth, which was set into a thin, determined line.

"We must take action!" Thor shouted from behind the couch, stuffing the rest of a strawberry flavored pop-tart into his mouth before raising his hand. From across the room his hammer sailed into his open fist, in which he closed it. In a bright flash the sweat pants and red T-shirt he'd been wearing were replaced with his armor. Gleaming silver scales raced up and down his arms, heavy boots on his feet, a large red cloak around his shoulders. His hair flawless.  
>"Thor's right." Steve said, taking to the hall. "Everyone suit up!"<p>

They all scrambled to grab their things, Natasha reaching for her gun holsters, Clint unlocking the safe in his closet to reveal his bow. Steve snatched up his shield from the case, and Tony donned his suit, the pieces locking in together as if they were some sort of complicated puzzle. Almost five minutes later they all met in the hangar, the Quinn Jet already unlocked and started due to Bruce; who's only suit would be too destructive to have at the current time.  
>Natasha and Clint took their spots in the pilot's seats, quickly strapping themselves in and further igniting the engine as Tony opened the door hanger, reporting back inside the jet.<br>It sped across the short runway before taking to the air, speeding towards southern New York. Below them the high buildings shortened, eventually turning into the occasional portion of property and rural neighborhood, a strange sight to them, for they were accustomed to the cavernous feeling of concrete walls hovering at their sides, the endless blue sky accessible high above the rooftops. Here however, there was hardly any cover, that being called for by suburban neighborhoods and houses, or low laying trenches and woods. Otherwise there was a large expanse of countryside. It didn't last long however, for below them they saw the beginning of a flood of people trying to escape the small town's center.

Bruce peered through the front window, spotting a whirling expanse of metal near the center. Clint landed the jet, opening the bay doors. Bruce took off to help the nearest group of injured people, while Natasha and Clint ran ahead. Tony took to the skies, following Clint in Natasha closely. This left Steve and Thor to jog along, scouting for positions.  
>It was eerily quiet, the only sounds being the crackling and clinking of metal flying high above each man's head. It actually seemed peaceful. No disturbance dared set foot within the all too apparent barrier set before them. Their footsteps echoed loudly, which made Steve cringe with discomfort, preferring that it be silent.<p>

His wish though, was not granted, as suddenly from behind them a feral sound was heard. The two men whirled around, Steve holding his hand in front of Thor as if to stop him from any sudden movements. Twenty feet away stood a man. He was fairly tall, though still short; in a way. On his feet were a pair of black combat boots, laced tightly. He wore a thick black leather outfit, small yellow stripes racing about the seams. He was clearly very strong though, the padding not at all hiding the sinewy muscles racing through his arms and legs. His shoulders were broad, his neck short and thick. A scowl was spelled across his face, sitting between two sideburns that came all the way to his jawline. The hair on his head was wildly styled, if at all. There were a few small holes torn throughout the whole getup, tiny bloodstains seemingly dry; no wound visible.  
>Though, most disturbing of all were the three, long metal claws that came out of each clenched fist.<br>He let out a roar of anger, charging towards the two. His arms twisted as he leapt towards them, gnashing his teeth. The claws nearly collided with Thor's heavy armor; and would have broken through if he hadn't ducked out of the way. A loud screech echoed about the flat expanse, causing everyone to recoil as Steve felt a heavy pressure on his shield. He kept the object raised above his head for a few moments, silence again falling.

Steve lowered the shield to see the man in front of them again, crouched; breathing heavily.  
>"Vibranium... how?" A gruff, husky voice echoed deep in the man's throat; fitting perfectly with his hardened appearance.<br>"How did you know?..." Steve asked cautiously.  
>The man stood. "It sounds about right." He lifted his chin defiantly. "I know only two people who could ever get their hands on that. Magneto-" He paused. "And the <em>real <em>Captain America."  
>His shoulders settled somewhat, though still tense. "Unless..."<br>"Unless what?..." Steve could feel the tension rising between the two. "Y'er a LMD!" He spat the words out, marching towards them quickly. "Who was the man who killed everyone in the weapon X program!?"  
>The man was drawing ever closer. Steve could feel Thor shuffle his hammer in his fist, his arms tensing.<br>"Who!?" The man snarled, the claws yet again erupting from his fists. Steve found himself lost for words. Who'd done that again? He remembered seeing the article in the newspaper, though distantly.  
>"Uhmm...?" Steve squeaked, preparing to raise the shield over his head.<br>"RRRRaaaagg_gghhhhhh_!" The man once again launched himself towards them, but this time Thor was ready.

Before Steve knew it, the metal hammer was sailing through the air. It made contact with the man, both now starting to fly through the air at a continually excessive rate. With a loud slam they rammed into the ground. A small cloud of dust billowed out from underneath the man. Thor moved forward towards the two, reaching for his hammer.

* * *

><p>Tony flew through the air, spotting Natasha and Clint not too far below, still running towards the center of the metal whirlwind. Suddenly, he felt the suit around him fly to pieces. He let out a surprised shout, yelping as he suddenly found himself falling. The all familiar feeling of the pit of his stomach sinking filling his mind as momentum pulled him towards the ground at a rapid rate. He though, felt a pair of strong, warm around his frail body. He glanced up to see a large green face giving him a crooked toothed smile.<br>"Oh." Tony said quietly, his cheeks now burning red, eyes wide.  
>"Hulk catch." The beast said.<br>"Stop screwin' around!" Clint hollered from ahead.

The Hulk continued forward with Tony still in his arms, which was not at all were Tony wanted to go at the moment. They trudged on for quite a long time, which surprised Tony. He expected it to be a lot smaller. He felt himself sigh in relief as the metal slowed down. They were making progress. Soon they were in the eye of the storm.  
>Hovering in the middle was the same man as on television. He was exactly as he had been before, undisturbed.<br>Below him a battle raged. Great metal beasts flew their mighty fists towards the ground, where the small figures of people scattered and regrouped. Beside them a monster burst to pieces. The Hulk dropped Tony, running off into the battle. A voice broke his stare as the great green beast lumbered off.  
>"Who are you?" A young woman hovered in front of them, her face twisted in confusion. She wore all black, the only color being dark purple stripes racing through at the seams.<p>

"I'm Iron Man." Tony stated blatantly.  
>The girl laughed, though it was an empty, hollow sound. "Of course." Her face fell, eyebrows furrowed. "Tony Stark." She turned to Clint and Natasha. "And you are?"<br>"You can call me the Black Widow. This is Hawkeye." Natasha stated quickly. "We should probably deal with the situation now, am I right?"  
>The girl sighed. "We can handle it." She glanced at them uncertainly, her lips pursed. "Leave. For your own safety."<br>A pregnant pause fell, the girl still floating above their heads, them still gazing up at her.  
>"We're here to help." Clint said.<br>"You don't understand." The girl urged. "This isn't political. It's personal." Her eyes narrowed. "We can handle it."  
>"We're staying here." Clint stated firmly, setting his jaw heavily.<br>Tony watched as the girl's face turned uncertain. She seemed suddenly drawn blank. "Leave!" She suddenly bellowed, her voice echoing loudly. With a wave of her hand the three went flying back, landing on their backs in the dirt and rubble.

She stared at them, firmly, though a part of her seemed shocked at the sudden outburst. "You- you should go." She stated shakily, her short red hair flying in her face. "Before I get upset."  
>"We've got the same kinda person." Natasha said through gritted teeth.<br>"She just made an assault, Hill'l kill us if-" Clint paused. "She's comin' in on comn."  
>Natasha's eyes went wide. As the same message echoed through her ear and inter her mind. <em><br>"Bring someone in!" _They could hear Hill shout.

"But-" Tony stuttered.  
>They saw the girl's eyes widen. She froze, her eyes glued to them as she turned her head slightly.<p>

"Scott! SCOTT!"

* * *

><p>Thor neared his hammer, the man still pinned under it. For the moment, his movements were slow; sluggish.<br>Logan could distantly hear voices debating his fate (however hard to actually make happen). The brown-grey colors of his surroundings were marred and blurred dramatically. Waves of bright color erupted within his vision, reds, whites, and bright blues. He lightly shook his head, trying to clear it.  
>His line of sight cleared quickly, leaving him with only one more problem.<p>

It was getting a bit difficult to breathe.

The heavy weight of the hammer was crushing his chest, very fast. His healing factor could keep up; but just barely. He reached up to grab the hammer and push it off.  
>For some reason, he couldn't. It remained glued to his chest, unmoving. He grunted, again trying to even <em>budge <em>the object; but no movement succumbed from the stationary object.  
>Anger boiled hot beneath his skin, and he scowled.<br>"Lemme go!" Logan growled, angrily tearing at the object with his claws.

He still gained no response from his captors; and no matter who they were; they were now an enemy. This was one step too far over the line.  
>He slumped his arms down, trying to figure out what to do. An immovable hammer, a medieval sort of guy and Captain America.<p>

This would go just _great_.

Logan subconsciously glanced around before he spotted movement atop one of the debris piles. He looked again just to be sure he wasn't hallucinating. Much to his relief, he saw a spaded blue tail peeking out from one side of the pile, a blue, elf eared face peering above the rubble. It was clear the poor kid was worried, his eyebrows furrowed, a lips set into a thin line. Logan made an attempt to make eye contact, but it went unnoticed. Logan cursed under his breath as the sound of falling rocks suddenly interrupted the near silent environment.

Everyone's attention swerved to the source of the sound.

Kurt was frozen, standing stock still on a pile of rubble, one leg lifted as if to be walking down. The only movement was the metal flying high above their heads and the steady back and forth swishing of his tail, which was low to the ground. Logan could hear his light breathing.  
>Kurt was scared.<br>The silence lasted for quite a long time, extending far past when Kurt decided to finally put the stray limb back down on the solid ground. His shoulders relaxed slightly, and it was clear he was trying to regain his usually calm composure.  
>"Tis a demon of Helhiem." The armor-clad man said breathlessly, seemingly shocked.<p>

Logan could see Kurt try not to react. He took a deep breath once again; before glancing back up at the two men.  
>"I zee zat you have <em>mien freund. <em>I don't vant to be any trouble. Ve can vork togezher here, _ja_? Let him go, and maybe ve von't have to do zis ze hard vay."  
>"I shall not barter with demons." The same man said, seemingly uncomfortable.<br>"Thor, I don't think he's a demon. He's right, we can work this out."  
>"Tis a very strange demon. Most are black, or grey... maybe yellow sometimes-"<br>"Thor, for Pete's sake, can you just quit with the-"  
>"And horns. They have horns." Thor put a finger up to each side of his head to make his point.<br>*Sigh*  
>"And they also have sharp teeth."<br>Kurt rolled his eyes and opened his mouth, before quickly snapping it shut again and crossing his arms.  
>"Oh." Thor said. "I guess you do have sharp teeth." He shrugged. "BACK TO HELHIEM WITH YOU!"<p>

The Nightcrawler's eyes grew wide and panicked as Thor launched himself towards him, hands out to quarrel. But, with a quick puff of purple smoke, he disappeared.  
>"Where is he!?" The Captain exclaimed, suddenly holding the shield higher, his feet flying to a defensive stance.<p>

Suddenly, everyone's attention was once again turned some were else as Clint suddenly came barreling into to the clearing.  
>"Keep on your toes! We have movement!" The Captain shouted.<br>Clint drew his now arm up, pointing it everywhere there was movement; warily searching for the unknown target.  
>"Specifications?" He asked quietly, his head flying into the all too familiar action mode he'd grown accustomed to.<br>"Demonic. Blue. Tail. Teleports. Just like in the files." Steve answered quickly.

They all whirled around as a sound once again erupted in the near silence. It sounded as if the universe had just sucked in a huge breath and was holding it. They only turned around in time to see a puff of purple, and Thor's hammer falling to the ground with a dull thud.  
>The man - no, the Wolverine was gone.<br>"Crap." Steve hissed.

A tension was now settling over them, a hint of anxiety floating between their gritted teeth and sweaty brows. Thor summoned his hammer, which flew to his hand. He was now perched on the small pile of rubble, gazing at the surrounding area.

Thor felt the sudden urge to shout in frustration, but years of hard learned lessons whilst hunting told him to keep his mouth shut. He resorted to perking his ears, trying to detect and sound he could. He subconisously adjusted Moljnir in his strong grip, the leather handle now warm and wet with sweat from holding it so hard. His heart beat was in tune with his heavy breathing, ready for any movement. He'd hunted demons of Helhiem once before. They were nasty creatures; and Thor had no fond memory of them. He had no affection to the demon he was currently searching for.  
>In the back of his mind he could hear his friend, Steve, tell him only to capture. Not to kill. He took a quick mental note.<br>Just because the demon couldn't be slain didn't mean it couldn't be injured.

Before he honestly wouldn't have wanted to take the commands of Maria Hill, or 'Lady Hill' as he called her. Before; he'd no idea that these so called 'X-Men' had a demon.

His head swerved one direction as he heard a sound, as if the air was enveloping in on itself. He approached it quietly, not daring breathe. Just as he neared the top, he was suddenly tackled. A blur of blue jumped at him, three fingered hands landing on his shoulders and sending both tumbling down the hill. He let out shout of surprise, grunting as he came in contact with a heavy, hard object. It was painful, but it didn't stop his attempt at getting a secure hold on his attacker. He could distantly hear the two voices of his comrades shouting at each other.

"Try and shoot him!"  
>"I can't get a clear shot!"<br>"I'm going in!"

He managed to grab a flailing arm, which he gripped on to, not daring let go. He heard the twang of a bowstring, and a gasp. Still, he held on.  
>But in another puff of lavender smoke, his assailant disappeared. He stood just as Steve and Clint made their way over to him.<br>Mere seconds later their assailant reappeared, not far away from them. His teeth were gritted, golden yellow eyes narrowed, almost glowing with resentment. His spaded tail swung low, slowly waving back and forth. His lip was split, and he was nursing a gash on one of his arms, presumably from Clint's arrow. His uniform was also torn at his side, a thin red burst of color erupting between the two edges of torn black fabric.  
>"Three against vun isn't fair." He spat, his eyes narrowing even more, almost to the point where they were closed.<br>With that, he started running towards them, leaving them all shocked at the un-strategic attack. Thor responded with a similar attack, rushing forward, hammer raised; a roar escaping. Steve threw his shield, the red white and blue spiraling towards the man.

The man - now he was closer up he seemed like an older teenager, eighteen at the least - fell to his knees, sliding through the dust. His back arched, and the shield went sailing past his face; not too far from his nose. He stepped up, continuing to run to Thor. Thor swung his hammer, but the kid disappeared, in a cloud of violet, only to reappear right behind him. He charged Clint, who quickly notched an arrow, firing it. He simply flipped over the incoming projectile, hands hitting the dirt, the one arm faltering slightly, twisting and pushing, feet first into the air. As soon as his feet hit the ground he tucked into a roll, sailing between Steve's legs, launching himself at Clint. Clint once again fired an arrow at him, but he disappeared in a puff. Moments later he reappeared; the foul smelling cloud following in suit. He landed on Clint form behind this time, making an attempt to wrench away the quiver. The strap broke, and he teleported away, leaving Clint only with his bow.  
>Clint hissed an angry curse, whirling around in circles in search for the assailant.<p>

Another puff of smoke erupted nearby, this time on top of Thor. The kid let out an angry cry, landing on his shoulders. The two collapsed on the ground, growling at each other fists raised; trying to get at each other. Thor laughed, excitedly, which slightly confused the kid; but he kept hammering on; fists flying towards him. Thor grabbed the kids shoulders, but the kid kicked him in the chest. Thor grunted, trying to grab whatever he could, an arm, a leg. His hands landed on a long, slender object. Thor pulled.  
>The kid let out a shout, sailing backwards. He hit the ground with a loud thud.<p>

Thor grinned as success finally succumbed. He marched forward, snatching him by the neck. He let out stifled gasp, clawing at Thor's arm.  
>"We gave captured the demon!" Thor said, turning to Steve and Clint.<br>There was a pause, the only sound being the kid's labored breathing.

"We should bring 'im in, I mean, Hill said-" Clint started, only to be cut off by Steve's sigh.  
>"I don't like doing this, but you're right." Steve said softly, walking forward to grab his fallen shield.<p>

Off in the distance they could hear Natasha's nearing voice.  
>"We gotta go! Now! Everyone to the Quinjet!" She seemed shocked, from her tone of voice.<br>a bright red flash erupted across the sky in the distance.

"Was that Tony?"  
>"I don't think was him."<p>

Suddenly, Natasha appeared from behind a pile of rubble, running as fast as she possibly could.  
>"I thought you could handle it!" Clint shouted towards her, but she only gestured to go.<br>Behind her a young girl was running as well an angry, determined expression plastered onto her battle worn face.  
>But as soon as she spotted Thor she froze, eyes wide, mouth agape.<br>"_Keety_!" The boy stammered weakly, his voice breaking. He again tried to wriggle out of Thor's grip; but he only tightened it, leaving him gasping for breath.  
>"Kurt!" She charged, but Thor had already started running away.<p>

Behind her was a loud ruckus, and she turned around to see a large; green creature stomping towards the other people. She jumped out of the way, landing on a pile of rubble. She sank down with the tumbling dirt, trying to spot them.

But they were already gone.

She stifled a small sniff, curling in on herself; a lump forming in the back of her throat.

She started to scream. "SCOTT - _sniff - _JEAN!" She shuddered, her breath starting to escape. "H-H-HANK!"  
>She got to her feet, trying to recover from the moment. She was supposed to be brave. She couldn't sit around and cry.<br>"SC-O-O-TT!" She sniffled, again screaming their names.

She quickly heard footsteps nearing her.  
>"Kitty? Kitty what's wrong?" It was Scott.<br>"Th-They got Kurt!"


	5. Log: Day 3: Apologies and Realizations

They'd gotten back to the mansion as quickly as possible. Magneto had once again escaped, and this had been the first time someone had been captured.  
>Kitty was in shock, even after they pulled her off the jet and sat her down on the couch.<p>

She simply stared at the far wall, breathing out of her mouth, her arms tucked to her chest; hunched over. She didn't bother move when two of the bamfs entered the room to greet her, large questioning eyes glancing back and forth between her and their surroundings; seemingly confused. The summer students comforted her; whispering things like 'it'll be alright' or 'you'll find him' to try and keep her from falling apart from witnessing it.

The moment the Professor found out he had the team and teachers gather in the war room.  
>Ororo was quiet, her usual loud voice very hard to hear over the drone of Cerebro in the next room. Remy wasn't sure what to say, his usual cheery outward appearance now worried; concerned for once. Logan kept trying to explain it, saying that he could've done better. The Professor sat silently while this all happened, a jumble of words and expressions tumbling from everyone's mouths, except for Scott, who remained silent.<p>

It was a while before everyone finally managed to calm down enough for the Professor too get in a few words.  
>"I understand this comes as a shock to all of you." He started, slowly as if giving a group of young children a pep talk. "And this is merely a first time occurrence. I also understand that a lot of you feel you could have done better, or in the situation present at least done a single thing to prevent this from happening."<p>

He paused, leaving a pregnant pause to diffuse throughout the room.

"But we also all knew that it was inevitable. We have all taken precautions, as well as practiced scenarios in which this happens, so at the moment we can only depend on Kurt to defend and get himself out of the current situation. In the meantime, we should all be on the lookout for any news involving the Avengers, and I as well will be taking shifts on Cerebro to try and locate him. None of us should feel that we could have done anything, because we never saw this coming, and this is also a first time situation. I will leave to start my search. I only ask that you don't bring this on yourselves."

With that final statement the Professor let out a loud sigh, before leaving the room, the wheel on his chair squeaking as he turned the corner to head towards Cerebro.

The room went silent.

* * *

><p>His head hurt.<p>

It was spinning profusely, and it was hard to keep his eyes open for more than a few meager seconds. Even then, there weren't any windows to look out of to see which direction he was heading in.  
>It was also still somewhat hard to breathe, due to the bone crushing grip of the one Norse man, who'd nearly suffocated him. He throat hurt as well.<br>In the back of his mind, he could hear someone trying to explain that he wasn't in fact a demon, simply... special? That was a kind way to put it.

He could feel someone check his pulse every once and a while, which made his breathing even more labored. He could hear it. It was light, choppy. It sounded almost as if he was wheezing, like an old man after a long jog. It hurt sometimes, to let the air slowly filter in, and then back out. He lungs ached from the strain of trying to let in as much air as possible. His chest felt as if an elephant had stepped on it, and taken a good lung moment to crush it's foot into his chest.

Kurt could feel the gentle forward movement of the aircraft, and behind the white noise and blood thumping through his skull he could hear the dull, mechanical hum of the engine and the soft voices of the others talking around him. He wasn't positive about what they were saying, but he was sure that it couldn't be anything good.

His thoughts drifted. He had to get out. But how? Where the was he anyway? He wasn't sure. He tried to focus.  
>"- tta get him to the tower fast. Before Hill finds out. I don't think any of us will li-"<br>The conversation grew slightly more focused.  
>"-know... But did you see what he did. I know this won't be good for our public appearance, but-"<br>"To hell with the public opinion. Right now we need to worry about Hill, what she'll do and whoever's currently behind the desk at SHIELD right now, because it's probably not gonna be pretty."  
>"It won't be pretty? That's all you have to say? It won't be pretty when he have mutant hating mobs outside our doorstep Steve!"<br>"Either way."  
>"Calm down guys."<br>"Shut up Tony!"  
>"Geez Natasha..."<p>

He let out a cough as he struggled to breathe, but it didn't seem that anyone noticed. He went in silence for a while, listening to their bickering before he felt movement at his feet. The bench next to him was now occupied. He didn't dare move, for fear that it may provoke retaliation. He'd learned that the hard way. The person said nothing, simply breathing heavily.  
>"I- I apologize for my actions."<br>He froze, his chest ceasing to move for a split second. He made an attempt to crack his eyes open, and the sight he was greeted with was quite surprising.  
>The man was sitting on the chair next to him, his chin balanced on his fists, his knees perched on his elbows. His chin was jutted out slightly, in a disappointed or saddened way.<br>"I understand... that you're people, they aren't understood."  
>Kurt said nothing. It was true, the fact that they were misunderstood. No one could quite get it through their heads that they hadn't a choice, they were born this way.<br>"I just wanted to make it clear that I now understand my previous actions were... undecidedly idiotic. I should have taken time to asses the situation."  
>Kurt let out a pained breath. He finally managed to open his eyes fully. His surroundings were bleak at best, two walls of military grade plane seats, black straps hanging loosely from their spots on the wall. Above were nets of parachutes and emergency supplies. He groaned slightly as he moved to sit up, only to find he was handcuffed to a nearby bar, one of the ones set in-between each seat. He sat, his head low, his arms held across his chest to try and stay comfortable.<br>"I- I-" He paused. It was the right thing to do. "I vill accept your apology."  
>"Really? You speak this truly?"<br>"Ja."  
>"You are a noble man." The man stated quietly. Proudly even.<br>"Not all of ze time."  
>"Well, try to stay this way my friend. I fear you are to face far worse when we land."<br>Kurt swallowed. A could feel a lump forming in his throat.  
>He hoped it wouldn't be as bad as the man claimed.<p>

* * *

><p>Her feelings had gone undecided. She had to trudge on with what little comfort she'd received from the others. They hadn't been there. They didn't understand how traumatized she felt. She'd seen her best friend, just taken away like <em>that <em>in less than a minute. She was going towards Cerebro. Of course she was. She had to know if they were making any progress.  
>The door was open. It usually wasn't, but this time it was, so she simply entered. Her hands where placed gently on her lap, crossed and still shaking.<p>

The Professor was sitting in his wheelchair, the helmet placed on his head. How the object managed to balance there had always confused Kitty, but she let it roll. She continued to let the Professor work, standing silently behind him. He knew she was there, she could sense it. It felt like hours bore the Professor finally spoke.  
>"I'm sorry Kitty. I can't make any progress like this. It was just too sudden."<p>

She sighed. "I understand."  
>"Kitty, I know this is hard for you. It's been hard for everyone, including Peter, Remy and Anna-Marie. Even Warren has been effected by this."<br>"I know. They're all afraid. Afraid he won't come back, ya'know?"  
>The Professor nodded as he placed the sleek silver helmet back on it's resting place.<br>"I just... I need to know. I mean, we're friends right? I can't just give up." She finished quietly.  
>"And neither are the others."<br>"I know. They never have."  
>"And that's why the moment we find anything out, they're coming with us."<br>Kitty paused, her eyes flying wide. "Really?... Wow."

She went unanswered, and the Professor left the room, leaving Kitty to stand alone in the large chamber.


	6. Log: Day 3: They Really are Just Like Us

It was nearly dark.

That felt like years for the small blue creature, even though it had only spent a mere two hours teleporting around along the roadside.

It's small pointed nose was nearly touching the concrete surface as it tried to track the scent it was following. It's large pointed ears twitched with every small background murmur. It didn't stop to mutter to itself, at least not now. No. Because it was alone. What was the point of speaking if it had no one to talk to? There _was_ no point, so it had to keep following the trail. But after a second it stopped, and sat back on it's heels, it's small spaded tail flicking about in annoyance. For a moment it debated whether or not it should keep going. On one three fingered hand, it's friends and most of the two-legged ones would be searching for it by now. It had also left behind a perfectly good bag of sausage for this. On the other had, his favorite two-leg, the amusing brown maned female, was upset at the loss of his larger male compatriot. And, if it didn't find his large two-legged friend, then the brown maned female would become even more upset. It sighed.  
>The sausage bag would have to wait.<p>

It once again stuck it's nose back towards the ground and crawled forward on it's four catlike feet. It could barely sense the light, but still pungent scent of airplane or jet fuel. Along with that was the brimstone smell that it's bigger friend had. The one he was looking for. The scent trail was headed towards the big houses. The tall ones that reached towards the sky.

The creature once again sat back on it's fawn-like hunches before it dissipated into a cloud of foul smelling violet smoke, only to reappear moments later at the end of the street in a similar fashion.

It took a quick sniff of the ground, and then the air, and once again the ground.

It was getting closer.

And then it grinned. It's wide yellow eyes narrowed as it's cheeks grew from the effort of baring it's fanged teeth with pleasure of finally making progress. It gazed up at the high buildings, it's eyes landing on the tall, curved white beacon that shone in the skyline, the rooftop stretching up as if to touch the stars.

It continued to pad along before teleporting once again.

The sausage could definitely wait.

It was almost there.

* * *

><p>Warren was sitting on the roof.<p>

He sat on the roof often, wary of the fact he might even wear a hole in the roof if he sat there too much. He felt calmed by the feeling of the rigid fiber and plastic roof tiles beneath his sock covered feet, mixed in with a combination of wood and portico like slabs from all of the years the institute had stood there. The ever present breeze shifting through the air and filtering through his hair and the great white wings on his back made it easier to breathe, to concentrate.

He let an empty sigh, pulling up his arms and forming a small platform for his chin with his two, nimbly fingered hands.

His mind was nailed onto the fact that one of the X-men had been caught. For real this time. No fakes, no clones, no shapeshifters. No phonies this time. Something inside of him felt sick, or empty. Even scared. When Kitty had come back with the shock overwhelming her, he could almost feel the same way. Someone was _gone, _and he wasn't sure what to do about it.

The Professor had come to talk to him earlier. They had both discussed the predicament during his break between searches. Part of Warren wished the Professor would try harder. But, the old man was stressed having his team crumble like that. And with it being so sudden it was hard to concentrate enough without panicking or even killing someone. That was the trick with Cerebro. If the user concentrated too hard, whoever was being concentrated on died. Their brain would just implode, and _snap! _All the sudden you've got blood on your hands and a dead body on the floor.

But between shifts the Professor had talked to Warren. The Professor had said that he understood Warren's frustration and sadness of the whole situation. But, even more important, the Professor had offered him a spot on the team.  
>"The thing is Warren... with all of the risks and possibilities, I don't know if the original team here will be able to cope as well." The Professor had said.<br>"Are you really asking me to join the team?"  
>"In a way, yes. I need more motivation to keep them going. And Kitty... she's so young, and witnessing something as severe as that-" He'd paused, sighing and placing his head in his hands.<br>"I'd be happy to help. For Kurt, and for Kitty."  
>"Thank you so much Warren. This is a great relief to me. I will also be asking Remy, Ororo and Rogue. I hope they're as enthusiastic as you."<br>"They probably will. It's no biggie Prof. Take it easy."

The conversation had basically ended there.

From what he'd heard, everyone else had accepted. The only ones who really opposed the idea were Scott and Logan, who though it would make the team a bit uncontrollable. In a sense, that was true... but this had all pulled them together. It's not like they weren't going to use the opportunity.

Warren could feel his eyes start to glaze over from concentrating so long. His thoughts were flashing before his eyes like a well oiled machine, piling up and sorting themselves out with an ordered, perfect fashion.

"Warren! Man, you should probably hear this!"

Warren thoughts shattered as a New Orleans accent penetrated his ears.

"Wha-?" He muttered to himself, jumping out of his thoughts with a start.  
>He glanced down to see Remy standing below him in the shadow of the mansion, his gloved hands still cupped around his mouth form shouting. The man's red and black eyes were squinting from a huge, award winning smile plastered on his face; the small, bushy goatee on his chin stretching along with it. The breeze coming off the ocean made a few strands of his usually combed back hair leave their. Remy absentmindedly brushed them back in place. He then gestured for Warren to come down.<p>

Warren sighed, gathering his thoughts and standing. He spread his wings, and the wind caught them, pushing him off the roof. With one motion he turned, and landed next to Remy, the wings beating loudly in the air as he slowed to a halt.  
>"What is it Remy?" Warren sighed.<br>Remy simply smiled in response.

"New York City, baby. The Professor found him."

* * *

><p>Clint felt uneasy.<p>

Tensions between everyone on the situation had grown since the last conversation on the Quinn Jet. Natasha and Steve were clearly not on equal terms, and Tony was just trying to get them to stop fighting. Natasha was siding with Hill. This in general meant that she didn't want their public view to go sour and for riots to happen at the bottom of the tower. Clint somewhat agreed, but he felt like a jerk to the X-men. Steve was on the mutant's side, more or less. He didn't agree with Hill's antics of cutting them off before they could do anything and overall creating the public image that the Avengers were an anti-mutant team. In general, he didn't want to be a totally racist jerk like Hill had been when they'd got back.

Hill had been standing on the landing pad when they arrived, and Thor's usually gentle tendencies had apparently not rubbed of on the woman. She'd marched straight into the jet like she owned the place, and taken a good long look at the X-Men. Tony and Steve had quite clearly tried to tell her to take it easy on the poor kid, and Natasha had cringed; while Bruce had stood helplessly. She'd taken hardly a second to un-cuff and re-cuff him before slipping a slim needle out of her belt and injecting him with it. That's when Bruce had moved, his mouth gaping in and out like a fish.  
>By the time Hill had led the mutant away, no one felt as... happy? That wasn't right. As 'less depressed' about the situation.<p>

"That was a really strong drug." Bruce finally stated, his voice faltering to a near whisper.  
>That hardly chipped at the moment.<br>"How old is he?" Steve finally asked.  
>There was a long pause, before Clint answered, "About nineteen."<br>Steve and Tony glanced at each other in understanding before the both walked out of the jet and into the tower.

Now they all sat in an awkward silence like they had the day before, not speaking, hardly breathing.

Clint sighed, before he finally stood, marching to the fridge and snatching a bottle of beer out of the fridge before grabbing his bow and quiver.

Everyone's eyes followed him until he left.

* * *

><p>So far, Kurt's day had sucked.<br>He'd been beaten up, choked, drugged, beaten up again and then left in a room with no help and nothing to do about it.

His head hurt a lot worse now.

Whatever that woman had injected him with had ruined his ability to think straight. At this rate, he would't be able to teleport out.

Heck, at this rate, he wouldn't be able to keep his insides together. He was laying on the floor, wildly blinking, hardly breathing and with what felt like a hole torn through his intestines. Half of him felt like throwing up, even though the other half said it wasn't worth what energy he had left. He had that tingling, burning feeling in the pit of his stomach. That guy must have hit him hard to make it hurt that much. He had a feeling that at least one rib was broken.  
>But it wasn't like he was gonna spill secrets that easily. He wasn't someone to put his friends at risk. He would hate to say even their names.<p>

He groaned. Even that hurt, his throat throbbed and was dry, and so far they hadn't given him anything to drink.

The room was small. If he shifted a few more inches he might even be able to touch the wall. Maybe he could sit up.  
>He pushed with his feet carefully, making sure not to pull on his sides to much. He could see a bleary puddle of red on the floor by his mouth. That didn't help the condition of the meager breakfast he'd eaten. Well, at this point it felt like nothing, for all he knew he could've eaten a whole table. Half of it was probably already siting on the other side of the room right now.<br>He closed his eyes and let out a breath. Any movement he made felt like an intense strain on his muscles. He kept one hand on his stomach, the other pried to his shoulder. He didn't move when a scuffle reached his ears. He didn't make a sound. He simply listened.

He heard someone make a sound of disgust, perhaps even retching. The sound alone made him want to heave, be he swallowed hard, the bile sliding back down into his stomach. The person walked away for a second, and an electric hiss echoed through the small empty room. Moments later the door opened again, and he heard a brushing noise.

_Swish, swish, swish, slop. _

A rag hit the floor. He cracked open his eyes. A few feet away one of the men from the fight with the Norse man was hunched over the floor, his arms working away to clean the mess his digestive system had made. He shut his eyes again. Maybe the guy would go away. He tried to wrack his spinning brain for anything important about the guy. Arrows. A small whisk of a breeze blowing underneath his feet. The man was an archer, and clearly knew what he was doing.

After a few minutes, the man seemed satisfied, and tossed the rag into a plastic bag before taking the long mop like object he had been using and starting to walk away. But then the man stopped. Kurt could feel the man grow closer. Suddenly a hand was at his throat. He began to panic. His breathing quickened slightly, and his eyes darted around beneath the lids. But the hand pressed no further than the top of his fur covered skin, two fingers balancing gently over the side of his throat. He could hear the man grunt and perform the same action on his wrist. He ever so carefully plucked his hand away from his shoulder, and tested for a pulse. The guy seemed relieved but not satisfied. Once again he felt a hand, but this time on his forehead, brushing back the short curly hair that was strewn across his sweaty face from the interrogation.  
>Kurt's eyes snapped open, but the man didn't seem to notice for a few minutes.<br>When he did, they made eye contact.

_"Ich hiesse _Clint_. Geht es dir gut?" _Asked the man after a moment. (My name is Clint. Are you alright?)  
>There was a pregnant pause, before Kurt finally tried to sit up.<br>_"Ich-Ich glaube, ich werde mich ubergeben-" _He stammered in response(I- I think I'm going to throw up.)  
>Then he felt his stomach start to squeeze.<br>Clint rushed out of the room and came back with a small metal bucket, of which he'd been using earlier. He began to retch, and Clint looked away, still gently patting Kurt on the back. He didn't say anything, just sat there with him. When Kurt finished, his head was spinning and all that would come up was bile.  
>After a long pause and the bucket being pushed away, Clint finally spoke again.<br>"Do you speak good English?"  
>"... I guess zat you could say zat."<p>

Clint didn't say anything for a while.

"I'm sorry."

Kurt said nothing. After a moment he nodded lightly before easing back onto the wall, staring at the ceiling. Clint slowly eased back on the wall as well, trying to pinpoint were Kurt was staring.  
>"You got anyone?"<br>"Vhat?"  
>"Any family. Back on that team."<br>Kurt shook his head softly. "I haven't seen _mien _family for a while. At least, my adoptive family. My real mozher... she... she has issues."  
>Clint said nothing, and for a few more moments they remained quiet.<p>

"I have friends." He said quietly. "I don't deserve friends like them."  
>"A lot of people think the same way kiddo."<br>Kurt smirked weakly at that, a grin twitching at the corner of his mouth. It quickly faltered though.  
>"I'm vorried about Keetty."<br>"Hmm?"  
>"She's a close friend of mine... she never takes zings like zees easily." He looked down at the floor and took a shaky breath. "I'm vorried about vhat she might be feeling vright now."<br>"Well." Clint shrugged in agreement. "You never know with girls."  
>Kurt said nothing, the only sound being a heavy sigh deep in his chest. He leaned his head against the wall once more, and closed his eyes.<br>"You still feeling alright?"  
>"I guess. It still hurts... but I zhink it's more emotional now." Kurt said quietly.<br>"Understandable." Clint responded. "Did a lot of that in my first years as an agent. Still do, sometimes."  
>Kurt didn't respond. He simply raised an arm to touch the numb area that was once his stomach.<br>"Ugh."  
>"Dammit kid... I should probably get going. Try to take it easy okay? I'm gonna see if Hill can get you somewhere nicer."<br>Kurt smiled a bit as Clint stood, glancing back to make the statement."

"_Danke._" Kurt said quietly.  
>"Anytime kid." Clint smiled softly to himself before allowing the panel glass door slide shut behind him.<p>

With that, he walked down the hallway to talk to Hill.


	7. Log: Day 3: Game Plans

She felt uncomfortable.

The disgruntling situation had thrown her out of the fence, and it wasn't much help that Eric was still trying to get a heavy leverage on the government funded team. Sure, they'd done a good job, and Eric's distraction had worked well in the process of getting one of the X-Men captured. Her thoughts raced, her eyes darting back and forth underneath their closed lids. She should have grown accustomed to having such a high rank if leadership, but the looking Tony Stark straight in the eye was difficult for her, especially after she'd so easily convinced the team to once again take action.  
>She let out a breath, her shoulders slumping over the desk she had needed to remain perched at. She needed a coffee.<p>

She slapped her forehead into her hand in distress, once again sighing.  
>She had to pretend she didn't care. She didn't care about the stench of the rotting bug shells in the ceiling. She didn't care if Eric needed her to do his dirty work. She didn't care if the Avengers rebelled against her commands. She was Maria Hill. She had to pretend, for now, that she was Maria Hill. She didn't care if the one X-Men looked familiar.<p>

Familiar.  
>Almost as familiar as the dirty grin that the man she'd loved always wore. He'd spoken to her, once. She'd stood in the garden of the man she'd married, as her true self. He'd been away that day, talking business with other rich men. She remembered it vividly, the disapproval, but still the happiness to see her. She could remember his dark brown eyes boring into hers as he asked questions. How had she been? What had life in the country been like? Was it peaceful?<p>

But finally he asked it. _'How is the child?'_

On the way. She'd said. She had to pretend. She was a pretender. She always had been. So, of course she would lie.  
>The child was probably dead, at the bottom of the river after the maid had run away and her late husband had been killed.<p>

The X-Man that Thor had brought in was so similar. He had the same narrow face, the same nose, the same stature. Even the same spaded tail.  
>She swallowed.<p>

No. It was nothing. For now she would have to pretend she didn't care.

She was good at pretending anyway.

* * *

><p>Anna-Marie just about screamed.<p>

Ororo was making an attempt to help her into the black, padded leather uniform. It was nice, comfortable, a black belt, with green gloves and green stripes hiding the seams. Basically all of the uniforms were like that. Ororo's was white, Logan's was yellow, Scott's was a golden color, Kitty's was purple, Hank's was dark blue, Jean's was orange, Remy's was a magenta-maroon color and Warren's was light blue. Kurt's had been red.  
>She'd sighed, remembering just why she was in the girl's changing room below the school. And also how much she hated the professor for choosing leather. Leather sucked. But, she couldn't judge, she was merely there to help.<p>

Just as she had started pulling the bodysuit up her legs as Ororo retreated to the bathroom stalls for a quick moment, Bobby had decided to walk in.  
>She nearly screamed, but instead squeaked, jumping behind a bench as he walked in.<br>"What the hell, Bobby!?" She shouted, peeking over the bench.  
>"Gosh! Sorry! Wrong room!" He darted out quickly, a uniform in his hands.<p>

This confused the southerner.  
>A few moments later, she asked Ororo why he'd had a uniform.<br>"I'm not sure, Rogue." Ororo had stated, causing Anna-Maria to smirk at the common nickname.  
>She would have asked Kitty, but she was already waiting for everyone in the jet.<br>"Hurry, we must leave soon." Ororo finally said, handing over a black hair tie to Anna-Marie, being sure not to touch her open-to-air fingers. Anna-Maria once again rolled her eyes and pulled her hair into a quick ponytail as she headed out the door, following the African American woman to the hangar.

There was no sign of Bobby when they arrived.  
>No one questioned Scott as he marched everyone onto the Blackbird in an orderly fashion, making sure to check if they'd buckled in and had been briefed on code name use and the like.<p>

"M'kay team." Logan said loudly as Hank prepared for takeoff. "Here's the game plan. Shadowcat, Gambit, and I will infiltrate silently infiltrate the tower and make an attempt to locate Kurt." He nodded to Kitty and Remy. "Once we find him, or after about forty-five minutes, Cyclops, Marvel Girl, Rogue and Beast will wither take on any threats or clear the way in an out for us." Scoot, Jean, Anna-Marie and Hank nodded in approval. "Once we get him to the roof, it's up to Angel and Storm to get him to the jet. We'll make sure to keep it parked far enough away." He glanced at Ororo and Warren. "And Rogue, try to get back to the jet as soon as possible. It doesn't matter what you do, just get back. Your our medical support for now."

Anna-Maria nodded, the white streak of hair in her bangs bouncing in front of her forehead.  
>She could do this.<p>

* * *

><p>The creature was almost there.<p>

It's grueling climb to the top of the tower had left it's energy drained, and it had sat on top of a balcony for almost an hour trying to pull itself together. It took a deep breath, it's tiny chest heaving.

It was almost there. All it had to do was find it's companion and then it could go back home.  
>It crawled to the glass panel door, quickly teleporting inside.<p>

The creature lowered it's nose to the ground and sniffed for a few moments.  
>It had the scent.<p>

* * *

><p>He had been perched at the desk for hours now, watching the security feed, the radar readings of the surrounding area.<p>

The tower had to be locked down tight. Nothing could get in or out. If need be he could send in reserve team members. The one with the kinetic fist that was an expert in Japanese and Chinese martial arts was a good option. So was the female wall crawler and crime fighter. Another good option was an agent of the company. And then there was also Stark's friend Rhodes to consider. Also his assistant, miss Potts could be convinced to join the team. He knew that Stark had a suit somewhere for her.

He leaned forward on the desk, closing his eyes in an attempt to surpass the glowing screens surrounding him in the dark of his office. Most wouldn't consider it an office though, he thought to himself. It felt more like a nest, something in which he resided and hardly came out if while still direction his huge, complicated underground facility. The shades to the window that hovered over the mechanical production area were drawn.

He rubbed his temples.

It was all jut a game.

A game that he had to win.


	8. Log: Day 3: He's-a-Friendly

The bamf let out a sigh, crawling gingerly to the wall, and eventually up it. The familiar scent was now there, and the bamf could finally follow it.  
>It wouldn't be long until he found his companion, it knew. It was getting closer and it could definitely feel it.<br>It took a moment to observe were it now was on the wall. In front of the small creature was a grate, a stainless steel one. It could barely see inside to the narrow vents, and behind it was a dark metal hallway. It felt a gust of hot air.

It would be worth it, it told itself. It would get there soon.

And, in the end it would be all worth it.

* * *

><p>She slid through the floor, silently, her long brown hair falling over her shoulders in waves. Her eyes were wide, senses acute for anything worth paying attention to. Behind her two men followed, rising from the floor like ghosts. The first wore a trench coat over his black, grey and maroon uniform. It was old, dirtied and had small holes littered near the stained bottom. In his hand was a bo staff, the ends lighter from wear, the grip formed from years of use. Behind him a shorter, more gruff man rose, his composure slouched, sinewy arms tensed for any movement. The room was dark, the only light being next to the large door on the far wall. The shorter man tilted his head up slightly. A few moments later he turned to the girl, and nodded.<br>She quickly turned, placing a finger to the intercom in her ear and speaking. "Wolverine on scent. Phase one is a-go."

The first man marched to the door, leaning in, his eyes darting back and forth to look closely at it.  
>"Looks like an ID activated one, maybe I can-" His smooth french-southern accent was cut off by a loud metallic screech.<p>

He glanced over to see the Wolverine sheathing his claws, the three elongated metal objects shrinking back into his gloved fist.  
>"Or we can do that." The taller man said, his head tilted back in exasperation.<br>"Don't worry Remy, you won't need to get all smart on us." The girl chuckled, though worry rippled through her voice.  
>"Well I'm sorry Kitty, you should've told me we didn't need to be all professional about it!" Remy hissed through his teeth, raging.<br>The girl giggled quietly, covering her mouth to stifle the noise.

"Bub, I'm the best at what I do." Wolverine muttered to himself. "And stick to the code names! Ya never know if there'll be cameras 'round 'ere."  
>"There're gonna be cameras here <em>mon ami.<em>"

"Shut up Gambit." Wolverine muttered. "Get out there 'n check the halls, Shadowcat; I'ma lift you up and have you make sure the next floor's clear."  
>"Gotcha." Shadowcat said, nodding to allow Wolverine to lower his hands for her to climb onto.<p>

Remy rolled his eyes and took off down the hall, suddenly aware of the sinking feeling he had in his stomach. Would they find him? Would he be okay? What if... what if he was dead? Remy swallowed. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if that was the case. He tried to direct his thoughts away from that though. All he had to do was check down this hall and make sure there was nothing they should investigate. He'd done this many times before, earlier as a robber, more recently to simply get down to the kitchen without waking anyone up. He was near silent, hardly a sound emitting from his rubber soled boots as he jogged down the hallway. He had it down. Find a door, peek inside for anything interesting, take a closer look, and get the hell out.

By the time he got to the last door, hardly five minutes had passed. He knew Kitty and Logan would be checking the other end of the hall by now. He made his way back to were they came through.

A few moments later the two arrived, but they had found nothing.  
>"Logan, get me and Kitty up first. I'm feeling' lucky with this next floor."<br>"That's what you said last time." Kitty rolled her eyes.  
>"I'm feeling luckier." Remy replied.<br>"Code names!" Logan hissed.

A few moments later the two rose through yet another floor, this one darker, with near black walls and blue lights installed in small slits near the floor. The lighting here was dim at best, but it wasn't that bad for Remy.  
>"I can't see!" Kitty said.*<br>"Not for Remy LeBou." Remy replied, absentmindedly stroking his goatee as he took a quick glance around. "You get Lo-...Wolverine up here, I'll take a look around that way."  
>He could see her nod and sink through the floor.<p>

With a sigh, Remy began to run again, one foot after another. He could feel the two sword scabbards bouncing against his leg, and he suddenly became aware of how desperate he was feeling. These were Kurt's swords, and Remy wasn't supposed of brought them. But he knew that the guy wouldn't feel as secure without them, especially after what had happened. He'd been captured, like that. Snap, all the sudden, no more blue comedian. Remy understood though, why the swords were special. Kurt had brought them with him from Germany, his home country, when he was fifteen. Hardly anything to forget about, Remy knew. He had used his trusty oak wood staff since he was nine, and he hadn't once broken it, hadn't once lost it. Well, he'd lost it twice, and both times, he'd gone back for it. The leather grip was even melded perfectly to his hand.

Speaking of hand... Remy approached his third door. The handle was cold, his fingers freezing. He poked his head inside. All he could make out was a computer monitor, turned off. The screen was black, but not dusty, the keyboard tilted to the side, recently used. There was another door on the far wall as well. He would have to check that. As he walked towards it, his foot brushed the chair next to the table, and there was a sudden, loud crash. He froze. It was a few moments before he allowed himself to breathe. Remy knelt down, brushing a stray strand of brown hair out of his sight. It was a bucket. An empty bucket, since the mysterious contents were now spilled and oozing on the floor under the desk.

He cringed.

He shook himself out of it though, turning to the door. Next to it, at eye level, was a small number pad. It also had room for an ID card. Remy grinned. He dug through his trench coat pocket, pulling out a playing card. King of hearts. With a split second of concentration, the card turned maroon, glowing ever so slightly. He slipped the card into the ID slot and stepped back. A small explosion caused the key pad to fall off and clatter to the floor.

And the door to open.

Remy once again froze. Kurt was curled on the floor, shaking from either fear or the cold temperature of the small white room. He was gripping his stomach, as if he was about to be sick, the long blue spaded tail curled around his tucked in legs. He looked so... fragile.

"Kurt?" Remy said softly. Kurt froze slightly, his uneven breathing growing more scattered.

There was a long pause.

"Remy?"

The word was weak, broken.

"Come here. Get up, we need to go, now."  
>Remy put a finger to the com in his ear as he attempted to help Kurt to his feet.<br>"Nightcrawler found. I repeat, Nightcrawler found. Send in team two."

"Re-Remy? Vhat are you doing here?... Vere- vere's ze team?"  
>Well... ya'll be lookin' right at a member."<br>"Vhat?"  
>"A lot a stuff happened after the whole deal with the Avengers 'ere." Remy said as he draped Kurt's arm over her shoulder and started to help him limp out. "I guess that, well, some of us felt motivated by the whole deal."<br>Kurt said nothing in response.  
>"Oh..." Remy stopped, pushing back the trench coat to reveal the swords. "I might've brought ya a surprise." He grinned, clipping the scabbards from his belt and handing them to Kurt. He stared at them for a moment, his large golden eyes widening at the sight of the two weapons balancing in the other man's hand. He took them gingerly, unsheathing one blade, and glancing at it as if it weren't real.<br>"Happy now, eh?"  
>"You could say zat."<br>Within moments the scabbards were attached to his belt and a sword was drawn.  
>"This way <em>mon ami<em>." Remy said, picking up the pace slightly. "Wolverine and Shadowcat'll be waitin' for ya'll."  
>"Keety?"<br>"Right on bud."  
>"Remy?"<br>"Yeah?"  
>"<em>Danke.<em>"

Remy just smiled and continued down the hall.


End file.
